Here I Am
by Rice Queen
Summary: Human AU. Matt becomes friends with the school punching bag, a Lakota boy named Little-Creek. He receives his own name and learns that sometimes being different, no matter what family says, is the only way to be yourself. Yaoi guys, be cool. Warnings inside. Deals with racism, football teams, and military school. T for now.


**A/N:** Okay, here's the deal. This is a people story, so there will be horses but not really. They will fall in love. This is a for sure. This is a yaoi. That's how it's going to be. There will be racism. There will be mentions of terrible, terrible things. But it's gonna happen because this is my story. I hope that you understand this and go into this with these thoughts in mind. I will accept dislike of it, but please don't bash. The second someone does so I will stop posting.

To all of you who know what you're getting into, I thank you for your time and hope you review. Just so we are all aware, Matt is Spirit, but he has yet to receive his Lakota name. So... enjoy.

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For most people being shoved into a locker and left there for half the day is unusual. Not for him. It's as common as the gum in his hair and graffiti on his locker. 'Savage' didn't really bother him as much as it used to, but when they came up with new things the hurt came back. Still, at least they used washable paint.

Daniel Little-Creek waited until the other students had left the Art room before leaving the class. The bell had gone ten minutes ago, and by now most of the students had cleared out of the school entirely. There was a football game, so the jocks wouldn't be hanging around his locker. It wasn't that he was afraid of the bullying; it was that he didn't like confrontation. It was his second-last year of high school, and he still hadn't fought back. His mother, before she passed, had said that only a foolish man seeks out violence, and you were only more foolish for stoking the fire. The bruises would fade from the angry violet to the gentle red of his skin-tone and be gone for good.

He was pulling his sleeve up to inspect his newest additions when he heard steps headed towards him. Daniel yanked the soft fabric down and hunched over, brown eyes anxiously flitting from place to place. The door opened and someone came in, someone that Tomas avoided looking at like the plague. Only when a voice called his name did he acknowledge them.

"Little-Creek! I was waiting for you."

It was his sister, Arlene Rain. She was in her final year of school, with top marks given by grudging teachers. Tomas looked up at his name, a smile on his face as he greeted her, "Hey! Yeah, sorry about that. I just…" His smile faded and he looked down at the table, at the drawing he had started. Rain walked over quietly, trying not to disturb him too much. "It's okay, you know. Everyone's gone for the day. Why don't we-" her breath caught as she looked at the paper, and the lines that were on it. "Little-Creek… let's go." She slipped her arm through his. "Yeah," he murmured, jumping from the stool and heading for the door. Leaving the picture behind.

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Matt Anderson looked out from his roof, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. The smoke filled his lungs and filtered out his nose with practiced ease, as he lounged on the black shingles. Sunlight warmed his skin and the wind played with his hair; a perfect day. He was taking another drag when his cell buzzed inside his jeans pocket. Only mildly irritated, he heaved himself up on one arm and retrieved the phone with the other, sliding his thumb across the screen at the same time.

A text from the Coach, 'where r u'.

On my roof, where are you? At grammar school?

Instead of hitting send, he deleted the reply and turned the cell off entirely, slipping it into his back pocket once more. There was a game today, but any one of the guys could replace him. It wasn't like being quarterback was anything special. Matt grinned, and tapped some ash into the wind. Hell, he didn't even like football, why he was still on the team after so many missed games he wasn't sure.

But then Matt wasn't really sure of much these days.

He was squishing out his smoke on the bottom of his shoe when he heard voices from down the street. His yard was sided by thick pines on all sides but the front, so he couldn't see whom it was. Instead of hoping down from his perch, he waited patiently for them to come into view. The soft murmur of voices gradually increased in volume and clarity until he could see them.

"-tree where he was hanged. You shouldn't draw that kind of thing."

"What am I supposed to draw, Rain? A blue sky with birds and a rainbow?"

"You don't have to be so dark and depressed all the time."

"They don't pick on you like they pick on me. You're a girl."

"I get it just as bad as you do, I just keep an optimistic outlook."

"Whatever."

Matt raised an eyebrow at the exchange, and raised it higher when he got a good view of the two companions. The boy was tall and lanky, his clothes too baggy to identify his body type. Matt guessed too skinny. His hair was black as night, tied back in a thick braid that stopped at the middle of his back. By Matts logic he was a mediocre student, with no clique to speak of. Right, and he was Aboriginal.

Not unlike his counterpart, short and slender as a small child. She too, had long hair braided, though hers started off as two and ended as one, cut just past her shoulder. A feather of some sort was weaved into her thick locks, tucked behind her ear. Her arms were wrapped around thick texts and her backpack bulged with what could only be more. A brain, then.

There were rumors going around about them. Just the usual stuff, about them being savages and uneducated idiots.

They certainly didn't look the part, to Matt anyway.

The girl groaned and sped up her pace, quickly disappearing from view while the boy glared after her. Matt sat up on the roof and watched him curiously. He had slowed to a near stop and was staring at the ground clenching and unclenching his fists. A lot of stored anger, then. Matt knew all about that. The boy stopped and grit his teeth, before punching the mailbox on the edge of the fence by the gate. The box flew off its hinges and spun into the yard, taking with it small pieces of white picket fence.

"Hey!"

Matt jumped off of the roof and landed in a crouch, looking at the suddenly frozen boy. He looked as though he wanted to bolt, but his spine straightened and he stood his ground. Admirable.

"What's your deal, man?"

Matt headed towards the box and scooped it up, never taking his eyes off the boy. He waited for a response, but there was no change in his demeanor. Matt sighed and headed over, shaking his head. Wiping a bit of sweat from the back of his neck, he noticed the tense look on the other and relaxed his own stance. There was no need to look intimidating here. "Look, it's okay. It just pops back on. See?" To demonstrate he jumped the fence, and slid the box back into place, minus a few splinters of wood. When he looked up, 'Little-Creek' was staring at him as though he were an alien.

"My name's Matt, you're Little-Creek, right?" He extended his hand for a shake, which the other took mechanically. A raised eyebrow and a grin from Matt urged him back into a state of reaction, and he was quick to reply.

"Er, yeah. Sorry about that…"

"Hey, no worries. It's not the first time it's been ripped off of there." Which was a lie, but it made the darker skinned male smile a bit. He pulled the strap of his bag a bit higher on his shoulder, rolling his neck a bit. "So you live here then?" He gestured to the house. "Yeah, it's pretty good. Not much to look at though," Matt sighed. It was true, at least to him. The pale blue paint was chipping and there were a few shingles missing from the roof. The windows were dusty on the outside from the unplanted gardens by the steps, and the doorknob made sour noises when turned. It was one of the bigger houses on the block though. That seemed to be a good enough ice breaker, because Little-Creek grinned and shook his head, "Nothing to look at? Man, you should see my place." They chuckled and then a short silence followed, broken by the Native boy.

"You wanna see it?"

"Yeah."

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Daniel and Matt walked down the road together, all the while chatting about small things: the weather and school, how neither of them liked football games. It was a pleasant way to spend their time, and neither had anything bad to say about the other. Daniel wasn't really certain why Matt was okay with talking to him. He was a Lakota after all, and nobody wanted to be associated with him. It wasn't even that though, that had urged him to invite Matt to his house. It was the fact that he had been called by his name. Not Daniel. But Little-Creek. His real name, the name he had been born with and lived by. It had filled him with warmth and a kind of longing he didn't understand. Whatever the feeling was, he wanted more of it.

"Hey, careful man!"

Little-Creek came back to the real world, noticing he'd nearly run into a random passerby. Matt pulled him out of the way, and the teenager stumbled. The passerby was an old lady, who sneered at him, grumbling about redskins as she continued on her way. Little-Creek felt himself flush with embarrassment. Not for himself, but for Matt. But when he looked up he found the dark haired boy flushed with anger. It was then that he noticed how close he was to the other, and took a few quick steps to the side before shouldering his bag. Matt was still glowering over his shoulder as Little-Creek pulled him on down the road.

Ten minutes later they made it to the house, more of a small shack built from scraps. It was a fixer upper, but it had been affordable and his mother had jumped at the offer. Moving off of the res had been discouraged, but she wanted her kids to grow up being proud of their native culture. Their town was small and out of the way, one of the last to really accept the Indians into society. Most of the residents still had trouble with it. But his mom was diligent and she put money towards the house everyday. He loved his mom.

"There it is," Little-Creek stopped at the edge of the walkway, glancing at Matt from the corner of his eye. The taller boy whistled, looking at it with raised eyebrows. "You weren't kidding." He chuckled and headed up the path, Little-Creek behind him.

Matt paused at the door and looked to Little-Creek, who seemed a bit anxious to him. He smiled at him in an attempt to make him relax, and to his pleasure the Lakota smiled back.

"Let's just drop off our stuff. Do you have homework?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna do it?"

"Nope."

Little-Creek grinned and pushed the door open, agreeing with Matt in his head. The door led straight into the living room, and from there he led Matt down the hall to his bedroom. He got his own room because he was a boy, but Rain and his mom had to share. Sometimes he felt bad about it, but right then he was grateful. He didn't want Matt seeing any pink, frilly, girl stuff and assume that he was… well. No straight guy had that kind of thing in their room, did they?

Matt entered Little-Creek's room and tried his best not to judge. He had never been around the Native culture before, and most of the things in his room were of that type. He'd seen dream catchers before, but never ones with real eagle feathers; just the cheap ones at the dollar store. There were two hanging in the window, and he walked over to inspect them. They were beautiful, and he reached up to touch them out of curiosity. Little-Creek stepped towards him in an attempt to stop him, but bit his lip and hesitated. Matt wasn't hurting anything… it was Little-Creeks home, so he was sure the guy had enough respect to be careful. Matt stroked one of the feathers with the back of his hand thoughtfully, looking up into the web of leather strings. They were old but not cracking, and he found himself appreciative of this. Something so lovely shouldn't have to be tarnished by age.

"I like them."

Little-Creek smiled at him, "Thanks. They've been in my family for a really long time. That one was my grandmothers."

Matt smiled and then turned to plunk himself down in a small chair under the window, inspecting the rest of the room. It was small, with a wooden dresser, a closet with no door, and a single bed that had seen better days. There were papers scattered on the windowsill, held down by pencils and the odd rock so the wind wouldn't carry them away. The sketches themselves were very light, so Matt couldn't see what they were of. All in all, it was a good room, not very unlike his own. Little-Creek was as normal as normal could be, from what he was seeing.

There was nothing strange about him at all, in fact.

"It's a pretty sweet set-up. So what's the plan? Charades?"

The other boy laughed and dropped his bag at the foot of his bed, reaching behind him to tighten the elastic of his braid, "Nah, let's go across the way and get some food." Matt was on his feet faster than an eagle on a mouse, pulling his wallet from his backpack before following Little-Creek out the door. "Hell yeah! I'm buying."

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**A/N:** Do let me know what you think. Thanks. :)


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